Sermons from Park Hill Congregational UCCDenver, ColoradoRev. Dr. David Bahrpastor@parkhillchurch.orgMarch 18, 2018“I Would Be a None Too”John 12: 20-36Some Greeks were among those who had come up to worship at the festival. 21 They came to Philip, who was from Bethsaida in Galilee, and made a request: “Sir, we want to see Jesus.” 22 Philip told Andrew, and Andrew and Philip told Jesus.23 Jesus replied, “The time has come for the Human One to be glorified. 24 I assure you that unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it can only be a single seed. But if it dies, it bears much fruit.25 Those who love their lives will lose them, and those who hate their lives in this world will keep them forever. 26 Whoever serves me must follow me. Wherever I am, there my servant will also be. Abba will honor whoever serves me.27 “Now I am deeply troubled. What should I say? ‘Abba, save me from this time’? No, for this is the reason I have come to this time.28 Abba, glorify your name!”Then a voice came from heaven, “I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again.”29 The crowd standing there heard and said, “It’s thunder.” Others said, “An angel spoke to him.”30 Jesus replied, “This voice wasn’t for my benefit but for yours. 31 Now is the time for judgment of this world. Now this world’s ruler will be thrown out. 32 When I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw everyone to me.”(33 He said this to show how he was going to die.)34 The crowd responded, “We have heard from the Law that the Christ remains forever. How can you say that the Human One must be lifted up? Who is this Human One?”35 Jesus replied, “The light is with you for only a little while. Walk while you have the light so that darkness doesn’t overtake you. Those who walk in the darkness don’t know where they are going. 36 As long as you have the light, believe in the light so that you might become people whose lives are determined by the light.” After Jesus said these things, he went away and hid from them.”There is so much going on in this passage that I couldn’t possibly cover the whole thing with any depth in 15 minutes. So, I want to share a few highlights.With my family’s background in farming, I’ve always appreciated the line: “Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it can only be a single seed. But if it dies, it bears much fruit.” Yup, that’s how it works, although I wouldn’t describe planting seeds as sending them off to their death. Farmers as the grim reaper. Perhaps it helps that Jesus then explains: “Those wholove their lives will lose them, and those who hate their livesin this world will keep them forever.”But, no, that doesn’t really help. It just adds another one of those head-scratching sayings of Jesus. I mean, I love my life. What’s wrong with that? In fact, since losing 60 pounds five years ago, I’m healthier than I’ve been since my 20s. Hiking, biking, snow-shoeing. Plus, I love the work I’m doing. I love doing this! The church feels healthy and is becoming what I have hoped and prayed for. But wait, what if I wasn’t healthy? Would I hate my life? Should I hate my life if the church felt stagnant and our ministry seemed defined more by moving backwards than forward? For that matter, is cancer supposed to make us hate our lives? Pain? Addiction? Grief? No. Would losing a job or a spouse or our home make us hate our lives? But hey, we could say, “Yeah! I get to keep my life forever?”So, I explored this text a little more and found some weird advice. For example, an article entitled “How to Hate Your Life.” Or Lesson 67 at www.bible.org: “Why You Should Hate Your Life.” This one verse deserves a whole sermon or six of them on its own. Can I just leave it at, “Don’t hate your life. Live your life to its fullest potential” and then move on for today? Because, like the seed in the ground metaphor, this is more about what fruit our lives bear. Anything else ultimately doesn’t matter. Another verse I want to highlight: Jesus asked, “Should I ask God to save me from this difficult time?” I thought we were just told to hate our lives. Let’s remember the context. Jesus is just mere days now from being betrayed, swords pulled in the Garden, the sham trial, and his execution. Not surprisingly, he asks of his own struggles and fears, “Should I ask God to save me from this difficult time?” However, he immediately adds, “But this is why I came among you.” He then refers to his death. To which the crowd said, “but wait a minute.” They told Jesus that the Law, the Bible, says the Christ is supposed to live forever. Who are you talking about? What is this you say about the Human One, or as we may know it better, the Son of Man. Their bottom line: “This is crazy. What are you talking about?” To that, Jesus told them to follow the light while it’s here with you. As long as you have the light, follow the light… and so on and so forth. Like much of the Gospel of John, the logic is hard to follow; it’s circular, it doesn’t go from point A to point B. Instead we’ve got this swirling mix of love and hate and light… and planting seeds that die, as well as a Christ that dies. As I’ve said before, John needs a good editor. Clarity. Make your point, please!But after all that, perhaps my favorite line is the last one. Not because the passage is finally done, but for its clarity. “After Jesus said all these things, he went away and hid from them.” That’s clear. Except for why. Why tell them to follow the Light and then go hide?Well, here’s at least one idea. And it takes us all the way back to the first line of the passage. “Some Greeks came to the festival,” meaning they came to Jerusalem for Passover, “and said, ‘Sir, we want to see Jesus.’” Some Greeks came. Who are these Greeks? So let’s remember, context again: word had spread far and wide about Jesus – part-time miracle worker, healer, teacher. And increasingly a full-time enemy of both religion and state. Fascinating guy, right? Who wouldn’t want a personal look? So, who are they? Citizens from the land of Plato and Socrates? Perhaps they came to Passover to observe out of curiosity. They may have been spiritually hungry, open to exploring. Or maybe they just happened to be passing through. Or, as some scholars suggest, they may have been Jews living in Greece; Jews who were part of the diaspora centuries before during the time of the exile who never returned home.[1]Either way, they were outsiders in Jerusalem. But no matter who they were, they were seekers. And what did they want? They wanted to “see” Jesus. Have you ever heard of the “nones?” I’m sure you have. Not the religious ones. Not the ones in Catholic orders living in convents. I mean the folks who are not affiliated with any religious tradition. They may have been. Many were at one time. But these “nones” are the ones who answer polls and surveys with “none” when asked about their religious affiliation. And why not? How can you blame them? When they’ve asked to see Jesus, they’ve been given creeds they had to agree with first. When they asked to see Jesus, they were handed a pledge card. When they asked to see Jesus, they were given a committee assignment.John Pavlovitz says this much better in a blog post entitled “Dear Church, Here’s Why People Are Really Leaving the Church.”[2] A few of the things he lists include: 1) You never leave your building, 2) You choose stupid fights – not to fight racism but each other, 3) You tell us we can come as we are – unless we’re gay, a feminist, believe in climate science, or consider family planning a choice. But hey, at least now days, if you pay hush money to silence a porn star for an affair you had while your wife is still breast feeding your newborn, come on in! But actually, that’s exactly right. Let’s hear it for heretics and doubters and people whose lives are just as messy and screwed up as the rest of us pretending to have it all together. Isn’t that exactly who Jesus came to share the good news of liberation? Some Greeks came to Jerusalem. Where should people go today if they want to see Jesus? How often would that be inside a church? Not to bad mouth the church, but regardless of whether you were a first century seeker or 21st century none, where would you go?Don’t get me wrong. Gathering in sanctuaries to sing and pray and listen is vitally important. It is respite care in a world that exhausts us, that discourages us, that angers us, that scares the pants off of us. We meet God here, or at least it provides a path where we meet God here sometimes. And the Holy Spirit heals us here, or at least sometimes. When the time is ready. Rituals have a purpose to help us return to center. Sabbath gives us a rhythm and reminds us to breathe and put our problems in perspective. We come here to remember to practice gratitude through generosity. All vitally important. And then. And then, we are sent right back into the world to put our renewed faith into action.But, sometimes I think I could become a none too – not the one with a habit and long black skirt, except maybe on Halloween. But folks like Pastor Gabe from Junction City could cause me to become a none if no other option existed. Pastor Gabe publicly took issue with John Pavlovitz’s blog post and argued with a young woman who reached out for understanding. He quoted some scripture at her and concluded, “People leave the church because they hate God and they hate God's people. There is no other reason.” She replied, “I don’t hate God. Instead of quoting scripture, how about listening to our questions?” He retorted, “The reason why you feel threatened and alienated when you hear the Bible quoted to you is because your conscience is guilty.”[3]Yeah, he could turn me into a “none” too. And sadly, this wasn’t satire. It wasn’t a teaching moment. It was simply evidence of what author Anne Rice called a “quarrelsome, hostile, disputatious, and deservedly infamous group,” the reason she loves Jesus but left the church.[4] Pastor Gabe’s whole, very lengthy exchange turned my stomach. And breaks my heart. What evidence of Jesus did this young woman see?Again, the passage began, some Greeks wanted to see Jesus. Twelve more confusing verses later, the passage ended, “Jesus went and hid.” What was all that stuff in-between about? Life, death, hate, seed-planting… follow light around in circles…?Well, boil it all down, and I think I hear Jesus ask, “What are you willing to die for.” To some Greeks and the seekers in all of us: “For what are you willing to die?”If we asked that question of people who consider themselves nones or spiritual but not religious, I think the church would expand exponentially. Not that church growth is the point, but if we told people the truth:

that joy does not come from our possessions but in giving them away,

that happiness does not depend on a good reputation but in loving those with bad reputations,

that we have to love all the people we don’t like

that meaning is found in serving, not in being served…

You get what I’m saying… If we were less concerned with our own lives, you could call it “hating” our lives, but I’d rather not; if we were concerned more with the life, health, and well-being of our neighborhoods, cities, countries, and the planet we share with billions of people than we were with our church (ouch), we would make a difference that would matter in the grand scheme of things. Confronting racism. Standing up for refugees and immigrants and supporting #MeToo. Getting people to love God more than their guns. Maybe we wouldn’t attract a single new person, but at least our neighbors might see Jesus. And isn’t that the point?

But it may require the death of many of the expectations we place on what is important in the church. In fact, how many churches are dying because they wouldn’t die? Die to programs that didn’t make a difference in the world. Having a building but no ministry. Die to worship that speaks of concerns and in a language utterly unintelligible to anyone outside the narrow confines of their particular faith. Die to the way things are “supposed” to be or have always been done. Die to the fear that we might die.

Which is no different than the same questions we could ask in our personal lives. Can we die to the fear that we might die, or rather, will die? Die to the way things are “supposed” to be or have always been done? Die to worshiping things that are meaning-less? Die to a way of life that makes no difference in the world?

To what must we die. And for what are you willing to die? Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it can only be a single seed. But if it dies, it bears much fruit.

Jesus said all these things and then went off to hide, which strikes me as one of the funniest things in the Bible. But why else would Jesus go off and hide other than to encourage his followers to be the Light? So that the whole world might see Jesus. And if I wasn’t being clear enough, so that people can see Jesus in you.

At least that’s one potential explanation for this text. One that doesn’t make me want to become a none. How about you?

“Content for Our Obituary Writer”Ephesians 2: 1-10 – New Revised Standard VersionYou were dead through the trespasses and sins 2 in which you once lived, following the course of this world, following the ruler of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work among those who are disobedient. 3 All of us once lived among them in the passions of our flesh, following the desires of flesh and senses, and we were by nature children of wrath, like everyone else. 4 But God, who is rich in mercy, out of the great love with which God loved us 5 even when we were dead through our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved— 6 and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, 7 so that in the ages to come he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. 8 For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God— 9 not the result of works, so that no one may boast. 10 For we are what God has made us, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand to be our way of life.

Some obituaries can be humorous, such as the one which stated that the deceased “respectfully requests six Cleveland Browns football players to serve as pall bearers so that the Browns can let him down one last time.”Mary Anne Noland’s obituary began “Faced with the prospect of voting for either Donald Trump or Hillary Clinton, Mary Anne chose instead to pass into the arms of eternal rest in the love of God.”Then there are those which ride along the edge of humor. The obituary for Mike Blanchard read “He enjoyed booze, guns, cars, and chasing younger women until the day he died.”Others convey a less humorous message by the person who submits it. Josie Anello is survived by her son, ‘A.J.’, who loved and cared for her; daughter ‘Ninfa’ who betrayed her trust; and son ‘Peter’ who broke her heart.But the children of Johanna Scarpitti really crossed the line with their obit which began “Ding dong the witch is dead, but the memory of our mother lives on.”But then there are those for whom the pain is really on display and who even use obituaries to get revenge. Or maybe not revenge, but just to express their deep disappointment.For example, the obituary for Leslie ‘Popeye' Charping, says he “lived much longer than he deserved. He served in the Navy not because of bravery or patriotism but as part of a plea deal to escape sentencing. Leslie's life served no other obvious purpose, he did not contribute to society or serve his community and he possessed no redeeming qualities besides quick witted sarcasm which was only amusing when he was sober.”[1]I don’t mean to make light of the dead. But I was struck by the similarity expressed by the author of the Letter to the Ephesians. Pretty harsh words. “You were dead through the trespasses and sins in which you once lived, following the course of this world, following the ruler of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work among those who are disobedient. All of us lived among them in the passions of our flesh, following the desires of flesh and senses, and we were by nature children of wrath.”Kind of like a long-winded description of Johnny “Big Buck” whose obituary spoke of a life filled with affairs with beautiful, smart women, “mostly brunette.” Curious detail. Was that a statement of admiration or admonition?I don’t much like the first half of today’s passage. The second half is much better, and more familiar, and usually read without the first. It’s basic Protestant Christianity: “For by grace you have been saved through faith. Not of our own doing, but as the gift of God. Not the result of works, so that no one can boast.” Sound familiar?No wonder we skip the first part; disobedience, flesh and children of wrath… But without that, it doesn’t do much good to say we’ve been raised to new life if we can’t articulate what our old life meant. Saved by grace through faith. But from what?Mike Blanchard was remembered for his life of booze, guns, and cars. Joanna Scarpitti’s children memorialized their mother by calling her a witch. And Leslie, Popeye, Charling, we’re told, had no redeeming qualities. I don’t know what kind of pain they caused their families. But I have a problem with churches making everything about the faults of individuals when in the grand scheme of things, it’s all too small, trivial. Like when I was seven years old, I went forward for an altar call. It was an incredibly emotional experience as I confessed my sins and gave my life to Jesus Christ. I still remember it vividly. But I have to laugh. Was I dead because of my sin? Was I captive to the desires of my seven-year-old flesh? Following my passions? Not yet, at least. And yet others do have very powerful stories of conversion, who totally get “dead.” My ministry in Cleveland was with a lot of men and women in and out of recovery who had gruesome stories of actions they had taken, mostly as a result of their drug and alcohol addictions, who were now, by the grace of God, one day at a time, living a sober life. They still had things about their past for which they felt shame and regret, but it no longer controlled their lives. But even my saying that tends to focus on addiction as “moral failing” without consideration of addiction as disease. Nor does it go beyond the fault of the individual. What does it say about the will of society to then not fund treatment centers?So, yes, there is our past life. Whatever it might be. And there is the promise of new life. The slate wiped clean. Everyone is more than their worst mistake. A new life, as the text declares, we can’t earn because it’s a gift from God, not an achievement for which we can claim credit. But, again, saved from what? I don’t particularly care about whether individuals love booze or chase women.Although I do care about attitudes that excuse “locker room talk” and “boys will be boys” that are complicit with the abuse of women, who don’t deserve to be “chased.” Men so weak “they can’t help themselves” around beautiful women? Really? But that’s also the same pattern that excuses pay inequity, and provides unlimited health insurance coverage for Viagra but not birth control. And I do care about booze. About companies that profit from peddling booze in the border towns around reservations, like White Clay, Nebraska. But here’s my point: Christian theology too often turns this text and others like it into a screed about personal habits and individual salvation. It even ignores the text later in the same book of Ephesians which speaks of confronting the “powers and principalities.” Why is that?Pope Francis declared this week that Oscar Romero will be canonized as a Roman Catholic saint. Finally. He was assassinated while saying the mass in a hospital chapel in 1980 by a right-wing death squad aligned with the government of El Salvador. Killed in front of patients and nuns hours after pleading on the radio for government soldiers to disobey the orders of their commanders to kill civilians. Romero was the Archbishop of San Salvador, a mild-mannered man who was elevated to Archbishop because he was safe. He wouldn’t rock the boat. He wouldn’t confront the powers and principalities. But the suffering of his people led him to embrace liberation theology, saying “We must save not the soul at the hour of death but the person living in history.” He said, quite contrary to his earlier beliefs, that “A church that doesn't provoke any crises, a gospel that doesn't unsettle, a word of God that doesn't get under anyone’s skin, a word of God that doesn't touch the real sin of the society in which it is being proclaimed — ​what gospel is that?” It was statements like that which caused Popes John Paul II and Pope Benedict to hold up his canonization.[2] They did not approve of the church’s involvement in social justice. Also known as: Save them from their sin, not the sin of their society. Archbishop Helder Camara said, “When I feed the hungry, they call me a saint. When I ask why they have no food, they call me a Communist.”I might like to skip over the first half of today’s passage because it has been trivialized into personal foibles and bad habits. Or turned into accusations – “you’re just captive to the flesh” has been quoted many times to me. But then again, how can we proclaim, “I’ve been saved by grace through faith” while claiming no need for change? It seems pretty pointless. Cheap grace. And fooling ourselves. Lent calls for self-examination.There are clearly both individual and social implications in Christianity, as well as this text. Requiring both halves. That’s where hope lies. Adam Eckhart invites us to view this text, the whole text, from the perspective of a “redemptive ethic.”[3] A process of critiquing and transforming – ourselves and our world. So, what might it mean to bring a redemptive ethic to today’s divided and polarized world? Goodness knows there is enough to critique. So, then, consider this about the powers and principalities: What holds power over you? What about today’s divided and polarized world holds its power over you? For example, is it the power of hope? That’s what this text proclaims. Or is it the power of despair? Every week I confess at times the power of despair, its temptation toward hopelessness, growing suspicions which can lead us to disengage. A cynicism that is susceptible to anger. An anger which leads to hatred. A hatred that leads people to conclude they want nothing to do with anyone who does not agree with them. I want to be saved from that. Our country needs to be saved from that. The first half of today’s passage considers what we are saved from. Or need to be. The second half is the how. By grace, not by good works – no matter how many marches and meetings we attend. By God, not our own effort – which, thankfully means hopelessness and cynicism, hurt and anger, are temporary and can be overcome. But there’s a little line I had never noticed before. It’s not just what we are saved from but what we are saved for. Sure, we’re not saved by good works. But the text goes on to say we are now “created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand to be our way of life.” Huh. Salvation is to result in a way of life filled with good works. Christians are always talking about salvation being a ticket to heaven, with everyone else “left behind.” Have any of you ever seen or heard that line before, that little tiny “it changes everything” verse before? Especially the preachers in the group? We had the from, but not the for. We had the how, but not the why. But here it says it clearly: Created in Christ, we were made for good works. Here, not heaven. Now, not later. On behalf of a world, so loved by God, that Christ came to show us our way of life. Hopefully providing some good content for our obituary, which of course is not the point. But it does beg the question, having heard what was said about Johanna Scarpitti, and especially Popeye Charping, how do you want to be remembered?

Remembered for your generosity. Or tight-fistedness.

A survivor. Or a complainer.

For always showing up, with a casserole to a church potluck or the bedside of a friend. Or expecting someone to show up for us?

For always standing up, on behalf of Mexicans and Muslims and refugees. For Black Lives Matter. Or asking, What about me?

For never giving up hope that America will survive this present moment. Or for giving up on our fellow Americans.

Sermons from Park Hill Congregational UCCDenver, ColoradoRev. Dr. David Bahrpastor@parkhillchurch.orgFebruary 25, 2018“Laughing at the NRA”​ Genesis 17: 1-7, 15-16 – Common English BibleWhen Abram was 99 years old, the Lord appeared to Abram and said to him, “I am El Shaddai. Walk with me and be trustworthy. 2 I will make a covenant between us and I will give you many, many descendants.” 3 Abram fell on his face, and God said to him, 4 “But me, my covenant is with you; you will be the ancestor of many nations. 5 And because I have made you the ancestor of many nations, your name will no longer be Abram but Abraham. 6 I will make you very fertile. I will produce nations from you, and kings will come from you. 7 I will set up my covenant with you and your descendants after you in every generation as an enduring covenant. I will be your God and your descendants’ God after you.

15 God said to Abraham, “As for your wife Sarai, you will no longer call her Sarai. Her name will now be Sarah. 16 I will bless her and even give you a son from her. I will bless her so that she will become nations, and kings of peoples will come from her.”

When Abram was 99 years old, God appeared to him. In response, the text says he fell on his face, perhaps out of awe or humility or respect. Then God proceeded to promise him a child and many, many descendants. Oh, and by the way, from the womb of a 90-year-old woman. For some reason, that’s where today’s lectionary reading stopped. But the far more interesting part of the story, to me, comes in the very next verse: “Abram fell on his face (again) and laughed.” No disrespect meant, I’m sure. Maybe he just chuckled or giggled, but falling on your face sounds like he hooted and hollered and rolled around on the ground. The text explains that while he laughed, he said to himself – “What?! From a 100-year-old man and a 90-year-old woman!” But God was serious and told him to name their son Isaac.Here’s something else to laugh at. Apparently, Abraham didn’t bother to tell this news to Sarah. Nor is there record that he told Sarai that her name was now Sarah. Wouldn’t you want to know that?! Or that she should now call her beloved Abram Abraham.Abraham didn’t bother to tell Sarah that she was about to get pregnant. She found out because she overheard it. As the story goes, Abraham saw three strangers passing by.[1] As would be the custom, he pleaded with them to stop and proceeded to treat like they were travelling royalty, providing water to wash their feet, commanding his servants to roast a fatted calf, and rushing into the tent with their best flour to tell Sarah, quick, make a cake for our guests. “Gee, thanks for the warning! I had nothing better to do!” They had been married for something like 70 years, so she probably wasn’t that surprised, perhaps snickering under her breath – “oh, that Abram! (oops, Abraham!)” and then got to work.From behind the wall of the tent, she heard those three strangers tell her husband that when they passed by again in a year, Sarah would have a son. Hearing this, the text says, “she laughed.” I can imagine she was genuinely amused. “Me give birth? At my age?” Maybe just a snicker, or maybe a deep belly laugh, quickly stifled. Or maybe a little nervous laughter, thinking OMG, what if.But I can also imagine her laugh might not have been amused but bitter. A short “ha,” or a cynical “humph.” Bitter at being barren for a lifetime. “And now I’m supposed to give birth? At my age?” She could easily have been bitter that Abraham actually already had a son with Sarah’s slave Hagar… an arrangement Sarah herself had suggested, but regretted immediately.[2] But that’s another story.Whatever “she laughed” means in the text, whether hiding some deeper pain, a little snicker, or an all-out guffaw, God asked Abraham, “Why did Sarah laugh?” Sarah quickly shot back, “No I didn’t.” God immediately said, “Yes, you did.”[3] It’s a cute little exchange, until you realize Sarah wasn’t a 6-year-old playing a game of “yes you did” “no I didn’t” but was arguing with the all-knowing Almighty God, El Shaddai.All this laughter is significant because guess what God tells them to name their baby. Do you know? Isaac means “He who laughs.” Laughter isn’t just incidental to the story but an often overlooked central theme.Everything is so tense in our polarized world. And despite the efforts of Jimmy Kimmel and Seth Meyers and SNL to lift our mood, so much of what is happening in our country is genuinely not funny. And yet, thank God for them, because, as you’ve heard, laughter is the best medicine, good for the soul. Do you laugh enough? Various studies suggest how laughter makes you healthier.[4] One study showed that laughter lowers the stiffness of your heart’s arterial walls – meaning your heart doesn’t have to work as hard. Laughter contributes to greater emotional wellbeing. Although it could be said that the reverse is the cause – emotional wellbeing leads to laughter. But, get this, laughter can cause weight loss. I had to read more about this one! But I learned it has to be deep laughter for 15 minutes, and even then, it only leads to the loss of between 2 and 10 calories.[5] Oh well…But laughter can also be bad for you. It has led to asthma attacks. People have dislocated their jaw from laughing, not to mention you can pull a muscle. But a study found that it also makes us more susceptible to marketers. Reportedly, consumers react more positively to companies whose commercials make them laugh. As I watched the news this week, I began to wonder if the sounds of laughter at the NRA headquarters have changed. Normally when there’s news of another mass shooting, money rolls in. Business booms as people quickly renew their memberships and chip in a few extra dollars, just in case. After every previous mass shooting, gun sales soared to record-setting new heights.[6] It doesn’t matter who’s just been massacred.

College students on multiple campuses,

movie goers,

church goers,

participants at a Bible Study,

partiers at a gay nightclub,

a congresswoman with constituents at a grocery store,

shoppers at the mall,

people at a country music festival…

Even a bunch of dead 1st graders only added to the NRA’s bottom line.

Guffaws and belly laughs and slapped backs abounded as executive bonuses were increased. But are they laughing now? Maybe it’s still too early, maybe I’m unrealistically hopeful, but I don’t think they’re laughing in the same way at all the high schoolers who have been mobilized. I can hear a lot of nervous laughter.[7]

Perhaps that’s absurd. Just like there’s no way a 90-year-old woman is going to give birth. It’s laughable. But, of course, it’s really a story about the power of something that is absurd, and how nothing is impossible for God.

And sure, it’s absurd that a bunch of high schoolers are going to bring down the NRA. But should we have so little faith? It’s the NRA which sells a story of its own invincibility.[8] These kids are exposing that fantasy and shaming those willing to take their blood money. If it weren’t possible, FOX News and the conspiracy theorists wouldn’t be working so hard to prove that these kids are fake. Kids who can’t buy beer or rent a car but are mature enough to own an AR15 or an AK47, or heck, why not a grenade launcher. No, they’re really just left-wing plants, crisis-actors who travel to sites of tragedy. It reveals their desperation. And all the rest of their crazy, ridiculous, disgusting, tactics.[9]

Their insecurity has been revealed. On Friday the news began including stories of banks and companies severing ties, one after another.[10] Sure, Wayne LaPierre may still be laughing, thinking they can outlast this one too, but more people than ever are laughing at the NRA.

The Prophet Isaiah wasn’t laughing when he said:“The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid,the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them.”[11]

Somehow, Isaiah didn’t mean that as a joke, as absurd as it would seem. Just like Sarah, it is meant to say that for God, the absurd is not impossible. So, we can laugh, because change is in the air. Like Sarah, we shouldn’t mistake the improbable for the impossible. The invincible for the simply insecure Wizard.

Of course, while Abraham and Sarah did give birth to a son whose name means laughter, they did not live long enough to see the sands on the beach and the stars in the sky expand into the promised multitudes. It was a long game. Even so, they trusted God it would happen. They lived with confidence and conviction, not cynicism. And so should we.

I could get pretty cynical about bringing down the NRA, or we could laugh at them and trust the children to accomplish what others have not yet done. We could also trust responsible gun owners to shame the NRA – hunters, sportsmen and women, and those truly protecting their families in isolated, rural areas. Shouldn’t they be ashamed more than anyone at the lack of common decency at NRA headquarters?

So, I wondered, besides putting our faith in high schoolers, remaining diligent in our prayers, putting pressure on more companies, engaging in dialogue with responsible gun owners; besides attending rallies and calling our legislators, participating in Colorado Faith Communities United Against Gun Violence[12], and sending flowers to Eileen[13] to say thank you, what else can we be doing?

Do you own a gun manufacturer? Or rather, does your mutual fund or pension fund or whatever investments you have own a gun manufacturer?[14] It’s not unlikely. Teachers in Florida were shocked and appalled to learn that their pension fund owns stock in the very company that killed their students and teachers.[15] Or do you own a company that lobbies for mass incarceration? Private prison corporations depend on maintaining the pre-school to prison pipeline to increase investor profits.[16] If you care about the environment, do you own a coal company?

The United Church of Christ has long championed the tools of corporate social responsibility, including using exclusionary screens so that the church’s money is not supporting companies that harm people and the earth.[17] Divestment strategies in South Africa, including by religious groups, played an important role in bringing down apartheid.[18] What’s something we can do? We can make sure our investments screen out gun manufacturers, or at least those whose profits come from semi-automatics, not hunting rifles.[19]

We could laugh about how small our investments may be, but look what God can do. Abraham fell on his face and laughed. Sarah listened from behind the tent and laughed. Their son’s name is laughter. But the absurd is not impossible. What was it Margaret Mead said? “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it's the only thing that ever has.”

[19] I’m not personally against gun ownership. I grew up in a family that hunts. I grew up in a rural are that could not count on police arriving to protect us. But no one needs military style weapons to do any of that. There should be background checks on every sale – no loopholes.

Genesis 9: 8—17 New Revised Standard VersionThen God said to Noah and to his sons with him, “As for me, I am establishing my covenant with you and your descendants after you, and with every living creature that is with you, the birds, the domestic animals, and every animal of the earth with you, as many as came out of the ark. I establish my covenant with you, that never again shall all flesh be cut off by the waters of a flood, and never again shall there be a flood to destroy the earth.” God said, “This is the sign of the covenant that I make between me and you and every living creature that is with you, for all future generations: I have set my bow in the clouds, and it shall be a sign of the covenant between me and the earth. When I bring clouds over the earth and the bow is seen in the clouds, I will remember my covenant that is between me and you and every living creature of all flesh; and the waters shall never again become a flood to destroy all flesh. When the bow is in the clouds, I will see it and remember the everlasting covenant between God and every living creature of all flesh that is on the earth.” God said to Noah, “This is the sign of the covenant that I have established between me and all flesh that is on the earth.”It is “funny” how the story of Noah and the ark is found in the form of rainbows and bunnies and elephants on the walls of nearly every church nursery in the country – a virtual trip to the children’s zoo. We even sang about it in Vacation Bible School. The Lord told to Noah to build him an arky, arky…. Another verse, there’s like 10 of them, sang how The animals they went in by twosies, twosies, twosies, and a later verse sang how they came out in threesies, threesies, threesies, (who knew that Bible School was covertly teaching sex ed). The last verse proclaims that everything is now hunky dory, dory…Both religious and non-religious people know this story. But turning Noah’s Ark into a cute story about pairs going two by two, about how everything works out in the end, robs it of the shock. Right? All but two of every living creature is destroyed in an act of vengeance. Every man, woman, and child, except for one upright, but still imperfect, family dies by the intention of their creator. But, hey, everything worked out in the end. This is nothing if it isn’t a story of genocide. Using violence as a solution. Noah’s Ark describes divine wrath, explained as disgust so deep that God is said to have even regretted creating humankind.[1]That’s extreme, but in other ways, I get it. There are times I’m right there with God. Well, maybe not with the whole genocidal death and destruction thing, but tempted by the exasperation of thinking that perhaps the only way to make things right is to start over again. It’s often a theme of the prophets heard in Advent. But, in fact, at the end of Noah’s story, things didn’t actually work out very well.[2] Which God realized even before the whole episode was done. “So,” God said, “I’ll put a bow in the sky to remind me not to do it again.”Let me stop for a moment and acknowledge how this story and many others in the Bible are highly anthropomorphic – which means God is assigned human characteristics. Human feelings, not unlike the fish in Finding Nemo or Charlie Brown’s dog Snoopy. But a dog is a dog, no disrespect, and a fish is a fish. And God is God. We can’t comprehend with our limited intellect and language what is ultimately a mystery. So, therefore, to understand, we often assign God human characteristics – language, feelings such as anger or despair, impulses, or the lack of impulse control, such as, for example, resulting in the death and destruction of all humankind and every living creature. It’s OK to assign God human characteristics. We can’t help but describe God through the lens of human experience. But we have to acknowledge we’re doing it and why. And to me, the why is, God is personal, not just a mystery. I need some form of language to express this, to express a relationship built on feelings and faith. It matters to me that I know that God “hears” our prayers. It matters to me that I know God “speaks” words of encouragement and caution and guidance.Although the song In the Garden is hopelessly hokey, dripping with sappy sentimentality, sometimes, like we experienced again this week, these words about Jesus say exactly what we need to hear: “And he walks with me and he talks with me and he tells me I am his own.” Indeed, God is a mystery: described both as distant as the farthest star and as close to us as our breathing. So, yes, God is incomprehensible. And, God is completely comprehensible.So, back to the text. You know the basic outline of the Noah story. 40 days and 40 nights of rain. Months aboard an arky, arky before landing on dry ground, evidenced by a dove and an olive branch, everything back to hunky dory, dory.Genesis chapter 6 is the set up for the story. In it we are given the reason why God was driven to start over: “The inclination of the human heart is evil.”[3] Therefore God initiated a flood. But then, even before the end of the story, God promised, “I won’t do that again. The next time I’m ready to destroy humanity, I’ll put a bow in the sky so I can see it and stop myself.” How human of God to have a bad memory! But, curiously, then God reiterated, “The inclination of the human heart is evil.”[4] For exactly the same reason, God brought about the flood and God promises never to do it again. It’s easy to see why most interpreters describe this as a story of divine wrath. And as the justification for God’s anger to boil over. And even the extreme consequences – although it’s resemblance to an excuse for an abuser is disturbing. Did anyone else catch that? But that’s another sermon.This is a story of divine wrath. Or. At least one interpreter sees Noah’s story as one of divine grief. The kind of grief felt by a parent whose children get into trouble. Scott Hoezee explained: God’s heart was broken by the way humanity treated one another. God was deeply wounded and in pain. And so, this was God’s grief, not wrath. So, think about it from the perspective of a parent whose son or daughter gets into serious trouble. If it hasn’t happened to us, we watch enough news to imagine it.Hoezee said, “Most of the time what parents feel is not as much anger as it is deep, deep pain and heartache. Their response is often more tears than tirades. Sometimes people speak the language of anger and retribution, but at the heart, it’s grief.”[5] What they say and do is anguish, not rage. Although I’m not sure the distinction matters.In America on Wednesday, 17 more children and coaches and teachers were gunned down, at least 14 more wounded, and more than 3,000 were mentally, spiritually and emotionally wounded for a lifetime, caused by another mass shooting, by gun violence at their school. Classrooms and hallways and sidewalks that will never be seen the same. And add to that thousands of parents, families, siblings, cousins, and neighbors forever traumatized. In my anthropomorphic way of understanding, God grieves too. Holds us. Cries with us. Lifts us when we fall. God is anguished, and raged. Rage at the cowards who only offer their spineless “thoughts and prayers.” Their “now is not the time.” Whichever it is, rage or anguish, or whatever, God, I’d like to order up some good old-fashioned fire and brimstone wrath, vengeance and retribution to reign down on the headquarters of the NRA. Just send a lightning bolt to torch Wayne LaPierre’s multi-million-dollar mansion, paid for by the blood of these 17 children and their teachers, and the 20 1st and 2nd graders gunned down in Newtown, and every other death caused by their insistence on easy access to military style guns. Yet even God learned by the experiment of a flood that violence won’t solve the problem of human evil. Which, by the way, is not a teenager with a mental illness, not to excuse him, but the greed and power of the NRA and its lobbyists and their slaves in Congress who are purchased with campaign contributions.It is my heartbreak that wants to lash out with the power of divine retribution – by flood, fire, or both. And yet, in the story of Noah, that didn’t cause humanity to change. Remember how before and after the flood, God said the “inclination of the human heart is evil.” Although, I’m not sure I agree with that conclusion. That is a particular theological point of view which also embraces that humankind was born into original sin, that we are hopelessly, incapably fallen beings. No, instead, I embrace the theological point of view known as original blessing, that we were created good, or as God said, “very good.”[6] At the deepest point of our being, God created humans good, but too often we reject the good in each other. And, too often, in ourselves.What is a theologically sound response? How does our faith inform us in times such as these? First, we begin with our own grief. That’s where we start. To feel it. Change is not imposed but comes from within. With honest prayer that falls at the feet of God, begging for mercy. Like the prayer of Rabbi Joe Black on Thursday morning:[7]“God of the teacher and God of the student.God of the families who wait in horror.God of the dispatcher who hears screams of terror from under bloodied desks.God of the first responder who bravely creeps through ravaged hallways. God of the doctor who treats the wounded.God of the rabbi, pastor, imam or priest who seeks words of comfort but comes up empty.God of the young boy who sees his classmates die in front of him.God of the weeping, raging, inconsolable mother who screams at the sight of her child’s lifeless body.God of the shattered communities torn apart by senseless violence.God of the legislators paralyzed by fear, partisanship, money and undue influence.” It’s a beautifully, painfully, written prayer.Rabbi Black confesses to God:“We are guilty of complacency.We are guilty of allowing ourselves to be paralyzed by politics.The blood of our children cries out from the ground.The blood of police officers cut down in the line of duty flows through our streets.” You really have to read the whole thing. See below.In our anguish, we turn to words of comfort from the Lord, our Shepherd, who leads us by still waters and walks with us through the valley of the shadow of death. But that’s not where it, or we, end. What comes next in the Psalm? Valley of the shadow of death, therefore:I will fear no evil, for thou art with me.Your rod and your staff-- they protect[8] me.5 You set a table for me right in the presence of my enemies.We don’t just move on, comforted. We will fear no evil. We refuse easy solutions and instant gratification. In fact, even if every gun disappeared tomorrow, there is something deeper in the psyche of our nation that is tearing us apart. I tried to put my finger on just what it is that insists I have a right to own a gun whose only purpose is to kill humans – not hunt, not protect my home and my family. It is a killing machine intended for war. What happens when school playgrounds become a war zone? God weeps at the human inclination for evil. But for that matter, what is it that insists my tax bracket is more important than public safety; that my comfort is more important than whether a child eats or a parent can take their children to the doctor?I’m reminded of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a German pastor and staunch pacifist during World War II. He struggled with questions like “what kind of love is it which refuses to act when innocent people are being slaughtered?”[9] How agonizingly relevant. To the horrors of his day, he came to the gut wrenching decision to participate in a plot to kill Hitler. He concluded that “to endure evil oneself is one thing, while to stand by as innocent people suffer is quite another.”[10] For his decision, Bonhoeffer was martyred. And just to be clear, this is not an endorsement for the assassination of our leaders.The innocence of children who sang about arkies and twoosies and threesies and everything is hunky dory, dory was slaughtered in an act of selfishness. “It’s mine. You can’t have it.” One of the, literally, seven deadly sins.Today God comforts a nation in mourning. And reminds us we must not fear evil. I remind us we must refuse to give up hope. And humbly remind God to have mercy upon deeply grievous humankind and forgive our erring ways. “Look, God! I see a rainbow.” But I will also understand if God simply isn’t in the mood.As the words of the song we will sing say:If we just talk of thoughts and prayers, and don’t live out a faith that dares, and don’t take on the ways of death, our thoughts and prayers are fleeting breath.[11]

Thursday, February 15, 2018Opening Prayer For the Colorado State House in the Aftermath of a Tragedy February 15, 2018Our God and God of all people,God of the Rich and God of the poor.God of the teacher and God of the student.God of the families who wait in horror.God of the dispatcher who hears screams of terror from under bloodied desks.God of the first responder who bravely creeps through ravaged hallways. God of the doctor who treats the wounded.God of the rabbi, pastor, imam or priest who seeks words of comfort but comes up empty.God of the young boy who sees his classmates die in front of him.God of the weeping, raging, inconsolable mother who screams at the sight of her child’s lifeless body .God of the shattered communities torn apart by senseless violence.God of the legislators paralyzed by fear, partisanship, money and undue influence.God of the Right.God of the Left.God who hears our prayers.God who does not answer.On this tragic day when we confront the aftermath of the 18th School shooting in our nation on the 46th day of this year, I do not feel like praying.Our prayers have not stopped the bullets.Our prayers have changed nothing.Once again, a disturbed man with easy access to a death machine has squinted through the sights of a weapon, aimed, squeezed a trigger and taken out his depraved anger, pain and frustration on innocents: pure souls. Students and teachers. Brothers and sisters. Mothers and fathers- cut down in an instant by the power of hatred and technology.We are guilty, O God.We are guilty of inaction.We are guilty of complacency.We are guilty of allowing ourselves to be paralyzed by politics.The blood of our children cries out from the ground.The blood of police officers cut down in the line of duty flows through our streets.I do not appeal to You on this terrible morning to change us. We can only do that ourselves.Our enemies do not come only from faraway places.The monsters we fear live among us.May those in this room who have the power to make change find the courage to seek a pathway to sanity and hope.May we hold ourselves and our leaders accountable.Only then will our prayers be worthy of an answer.AMEN

Mark 9: 2b-9a – The MessageJesus took Peter, James, and John and led them up a high mountain. Right before their eyes, his appearance changed from the inside out. His clothes shimmered, glistening white, whiter than any bleach could make them.They could see Elijah, along with Moses, in deep conversation with Jesus.5-6 Peter interrupted, “Rabbi, this is a great moment! Let’s build three memorials—one for you, one for Moses, one for Elijah.” He blurted this out without thinking, stunned as they all were by what they were seeing.7 Just then a light-radiant cloud enveloped them, and from deep in the cloud, a voice: “This is my Son, marked by my love. Listen to him.”8 A minute later, the disciples were looking around, rubbing their eyes, seeing nothing but Jesus, only Jesus.9 Coming down the mountain, Jesus swore them to secrecy. “Don’t tell a soul what you saw until the time is right.”

Whenever I read the gospel accounts of how Jesus organized The Discipleship Movement, I am reminded of how important it is to understand the roles of both leader and ally.“Follow Me,” Jesus proclaims over and over again as he invites others to help change the world. Some of his actions may seem illogical. He is a carpenter from Nazareth telling fishermen to “follow him” and he will make them fishers of men.Who is he to tell others how to fish?Later, Jesus issues an invitation to a tax collector to “follow him” in the Movement with no promise to make him treasurer. Time and time again, Jesus invites others to join him. The invitation is broad, and the directions are minimal but consistent. All who are willing to join are welcome, but you must “follow me.”Isn’t it just like Jesus to teach us so much with so little? The organizing skills of Jesus remind us that true movements of liberation are best led by those who are being oppressed. This is why it matters that Jesus did not come as a person of great privilege, but rather as an Afro-Semitic Palestinian born on the wrong side of the tracks. It is from this context that Jesus begins a Movement, and it is from this context that Jesus invites others to follow.And allies begin to show up, with their bodies and their gifts and their skills, to follow.Even when the plan does not seem to make much sense, even when some think a more aggressive agenda is needed, over and over again, they agree to be Jesus’ allies in the struggle and they follow. There are moments when the disciples struggle with the leadership style of Jesus, yet they still follow. Most of them were oppressed themselves. They knew what it felt like to be hurt and marginalized in varying ways. But they followed.I offer Jesus’ example to us as we continue to strive together in the Movement work of our time.The invitation to the ally is always to follow the leadership of those who are at the center of the pain.The story matters. And choosing to work toward liberation of any kind requires a commitment to support the narrative of the ones who own the story.The role of the ally is not to lead or to fix. The ally holds the story and amplifies the voice of the storyteller.“Follow me,” Jesus says. Perhaps this simple invitation is the hardest of them all. LITANY:ALL PEOPLE OF COLOR: As a person of color, every day I see examples of white privilege that most white people do not recognize.Karen: As a white person, I realized I had been taught about racism as something that puts others at a disadvantage, but had been taught not to see one of its corollary aspects, white privilege, which puts me at an advantage.My African American coworkers, friends, and acquaintances with whom I come into daily or frequent contact, in this particular time and place, cannot count on most of these conditions. For example, I can easily arrange to be in the company of people of my race most of the time.ALL WHITE PEOPLE: I can go shopping alone most of the time, assured that I will not be followed or harassed. Smokey: I can turn on the television or open to the front page of the paper and see people of my race widely represented in a positive light.ALL WHITE PEOPLE: If I am the only member of my race, it is likely my voice will be heard in a group.Amy: Whether I use checks, credit cards or cash, I can count on my skin color not to work against the appearance of financial reliability.ALL WHITE PEOPLE: I do not have to educate my children to be aware of systemic racism for their own daily physical protection. Priscilla: I am never asked to speak for all the people of my racial group.ALL WHITE PEOPLE: I can be pretty sure that if I ask to talk to the "person in charge", I will be facing a person of my race. Lucy: If a traffic cop pulls me over, I can be sure I haven't been singled out because of my race.ALL WHITE PEOPLE: I can go home from most meetings of the organizations to which I belong feeling connected, rather than isolated, out-of-place, outnumbered, unheard, held at a distance or feared. Mollie: I can take a job with an affirmative action employer without having my co-workers on the job suspect that I got it because of my race.ALL WHITE PEOPLE: I can be late to a meeting without having the lateness reflect on my race. Eileen: If I apply for a job and get turned down, I can be pretty sure it was because of my lack of experience or connections and not my race.ALL WHITE PEOPLE: I acknowledge my white privilege, or unearned power, and will work to dismantle racism and white supremacy.ALL PEOPLE OF COLOR: We seek a community of faith that wants to dismantle racism. Follow me.[2]SERMON:That last line is profound. “We seek a community of faith that wants to dismantle racism.” You’ve heard it before how Martin Luther King, Jr. said that 11 am on Sunday morning is the most segregated hour in America.[3] But he said that 58 years ago, so things have certainly changed since then. Barely. According to studies, upwards of 90% of churches in the U.S. are of one single race or ethnicity. That doesn’t mean there are no people of another race, but no more than 10%. For example, in a church of 100, fewer than 10. 90% still seems too low to me. And sure enough, if you break it down further, only 2-3% of mainline churches like ours are racially or ethnically diverse. 20% of Catholic parishes are.[4]But worse, the motivation to change that is pathetic. LifeWay Research is a respected organization. In 2015, on the weekend of Dr. King’s birth, they did a national poll of church goers. Only 40% said their church needs to become more ethnically diverse. Remember, 90% are not. But two-thirds said their church has already done enough to be diverse. People are OK that Sunday morning remains the most segregated hour of the week.[5]I understand some of that. Immigrant churches provide safety and a common language, potlucks with familiar foods, familiar customs in a completely foreign land. However, those same churches have difficulty holding on to the second, and especially the third, generation who no longer even know the language which once bound their community together.I understand why African Americans would want to be part of a Black Church. Yes, foods and customs, but after a week of insensitivity and outright discrimination, church is the last place you would want to experience even, what I call, accidental racism. Well-meaning white people who either don’t get it or want to prove something.But why would white people, who are the majority everywhere, why would we need or prefer or simply find ourselves in a single race church too? Certainly, there is some measure of tradition and ancestry and upbringing; we go where our parents brought us – and because of that we recognize certain styles of worship, and especially music, as being the way “church is supposed to be.” But it also says that, for many, church is more about comfort than challenge. But what did Jesus say? Follow me. Where? Out of your comfort zone.It got me thinking about today’s scripture text from the Gospel of Mark. There’s a lot of bizarre stuff in the story of the Transfiguration. Some of the details seem unnecessary – like what does it matter if the clothes of Jesus are whiter than they could be bleached? But there was one thing that stood out for me. Peter’s impulse. Let’s build something. Whether it was so they could stay in that moment forever or to remember this moment. When Peter didn’t know what else to do or say, he blurted out, “Let’s build a memorial.” Or, at least, that’s Eugene Peterson’s interpretation. The word Peter used clearly had multiple meanings because various translations can’t agree what he meant. King James says, “let’s build three tabernacles;” the NRSV, our pew Bible, says, “dwellings;” which was an update of the RSV, which spoke of “booths.” Other translations speak of building houses or shelters. The other translation we often use in worship at Park Hill, the Common English Bible, calls them “shrines.” That’s a wide range of meaning – houses, dwellings, shrines, or memorials… But on this Racial Justice Sunday, it was the word “memorials” that spoke to me, like the memorials to white privilege increasingly being called into question. And disputes over what history should be remembered. You can’t take down a statue of Robert E. Lee because that would be erasing history, denigrating a whole culture. But many see building memorials of slavery, or the proposed memorials to lynching victims, as too divisive, too ugly for children to have to encounter. Why one and not the other? Who gets what memorials is another application of white privilege.When I was in Cambodia last year I visited the Killing Fields.[6] It was brutally and horribly honest. For example, this is the tree against which the heads of infants and children were smashed. Those are bone fragments leaching up from beneath the soil. A three-story building in the shape of a shrine was filled from top to bottom with skulls, tens of thousands on the spot where one million were killed, labeled by age and sex, such as a section filled with the skulls of 5 to 10-year-old boys, or girls between the ages of 10 and 15. It made me more than sick to my stomach. I was dizzy. My head hurt, my heart ached. But I was also fascinated as I watched busloads of school children, hundreds of young children guided through these gruesome horrors and being told over and over, don’t forget this. Don’t let this happen again. Look at what your parents and grandparents lived through, and in some cases, look at what your parents and grandparents did. The scale of the atrocity is staggering. But the honesty was instructive.Which is why I think there needs to be a memorial in the middle of Stapleton of the KKK celebrating his election, whether the name changes or not. Actually, especially if the name changes. Memorials don’t have to mean we celebrate or glorify what happened here, but that we can’t forget it. Ignore it. Cover over how he filled City Hall with fellow Klansmen – from police chief to city attorney to manager of safety and other key positions. Yes, memories like that bring pain. But pain brings healing. Art and I hiked on South Table Mountain a few weeks ago and wondered where Stapleton and the KKK did their celebratory cross burnings or planned and celebrated the completion of more torment and torture of Jews and Catholics and Chinese and immigrants and people of color. There should at least be a plaque on South Table so we don’t forget. Just like the effort Bryon Stephenson and the Equal Justice Initiative is spearheading to build a memorial at all 4,000 sites of lynchings.[7] Yes, memories bring pain. But pain starts the healing.And dismantling racism starts with honesty about our painful history and working to change our present and future path. The Cambodians were certainly determined to keep doing this for each generation. And I agree. I also don’t just want a church that knows our history and knows we have white privilege but one that is then dismantling it. If we truly want to be a multi-racial, multi-cultural church, we must be a church that takes apart our own privilege. But I am cautioned by Traci Blackmon: “The invitation to the ally is always to follow the leadership of those who are at the center of the pain. The role of the ally is not to lead or to fix. The ally holds the story and amplifies the voice of the storyteller.”For people accustomed to privilege, perhaps this simple invitation is the hardest of them all. To follow.

1st Samuel 3: 1-10 Common English BibleNow the boy Samuel was serving the Lord under Eli. The Lord’s word was rare at that time, and visions weren’t widely known. 2 One day Eli, whose eyes had grown so weak he was unable to see, was lying down in his room.3 God’s lamp hadn’t gone out yet, and Samuel was lying down in the Lord’s temple, where the ark was.4 God called to Samuel, who replied, “I’m here.”5 Samuel hurried to Eli and said, “I’m here. You called me?”“I didn’t call you,” Eli replied. “Go lie down.” So he did.6 Again God called Samuel, so Samuel got up, went to Eli, and said, “I’m here. You called me?”“I didn’t call, my son,” Eli replied. “Go and lie down.”(7 Samuel didn’t understand because Samuel didn’t yet know God, and God’s word hadn’t yet been revealed to him.)8 A third time God called Samuel. He got up, went to Eli, and said, “I’m here. You called me?”Eli finally realized that it was God calling the boy. 9 So Eli said to Samuel, “Go and lie down. If you hear the call again, say, ‘Speak, Lord. Your servant is listening.’” So Samuel went and lay down where he’d been.10 Then God came and stood there, calling just as before, “Samuel, Samuel!”Samuel said, “Speak. Your servant is listening.”Almost every ordained minister has something they can describe as their “call story.” And often, it is a variation of this very passage; the description of the process or a particular moment when we first heard our call to ministry. I was 16 years old, and a remarkably similar thing happened to me. I kept having a series of dreams. Night after night, I saw myself in the role of a pastor – preaching, visiting the sick, and so forth. I had already told God I wasn’t interested. But, because I was so involved in my church, I was an organist, active in the youth group, locally and even on the state level, and because my family was basically at church every time the door was open, people assumed I would go into the ministry. I didn’t know what I wanted to do, but I was sure it wasn’t that. Nevertheless, God, She persisted. The dreams became more and more annoying. While at a statewide meeting, I told some ministers I knew about my dreams. Every one of them said, “It sounds like Samuel. When you wake up, say yes to God.” But I wasn’t having that. That is, until I’d finally been sufficiently worn down to finally wake up and say, “All right, enough already.” And I instantly knew it was right. I had what I can only describe as a feeling of being washed in peace. And so, the course of my vocation was set. College, seminary, church. Except. Nothing can be that easy. Enter all those years of feeling different, of not wanting to be different in “that” way, and the word which I dared not name. Until I could no longer not use the word gay. And so, well, there go those plans. But did it mean that? I knew the call from God was real. The only problem was the church. Thanks to another very convincing dream, I realized it wouldn’t be easy, but I had to proceed anyway.The next verse in the Samuel story is, “God told Samuel, I am about to do something in Israel that will make the ears of all who hear it tingle!” Eli asked Samuel to tell him everything God told him, “don’t hold anything back,” even though the news would be disturbing and devastating for Eli. Yet Eli concluded, “God is God. And God will do as God pleases.” I believed that. So, I did what I could to figure out my part. I kept going, opening different doors, climbing through different windows, and persisting through the obstacles that were thrown in my way. But I want to be clear. My persistence was not of my own doing. God is the One who made a way out of no way. Born of God’s strength, not my courage, it was 25 years ago this weekend, the first Sunday of February 25 years ago, that I was ordained in Cleveland with the laying on of hands and a prayer for the Spirit’s blessing.I don’t want to make this all about me, but I would like to share a few stories of what it was like to be ordained as an openly gay man 25 years ago and marvel at, and give thanks to God, how different things are today, at least in most of the UCC.So, I finished seminary. In the UCC, no one can be ordained without a call to a recognized ministry of some sort. Most commonly, that is as the pastor of a church or a chaplain. But something must say, “We want you.” That was the hard part. At the time there were about 100 Open and Affirming congregations, but many said, “Sure, we welcome gay people, but we don’t want one of them as our pastor.” And so, while the first openly gay man, Bill Johnson, had been ordained in 1972, it wasn’t to ministry in a church. It wasn’t until 1984 that Diane Darling went from being an intern to associate pastor to co-pastor, but everyone knew her. Everyone else was left wondering, should you be out on your profile or wait until a search committee gets to know you before telling them? That didn’t always go over so well. It wasn’t until 1989 that Loey Powell successfully went all the way through the process, out on her profile, honest in her interview, known to the whole congregation who voted to call her. Of course, it only took her 7 years of trying first. And then, while the church welcomed her, many others didn’t.When the church in Cleveland voted to call me four years later, we may have crossed over to fingers on a second hand to count the number of such pastors out of more than 5,000 churches. Still, I was the beneficiary of an incrementally slowly changing world; but slow and incremental it definitely was. I was also the beneficiary of those who had spent a lifetime working to change the church – with much personal sacrifice and heartbreak.So, it was 1992. We had a really good first search committee meeting. I was Archwood UCC’s third candidate in three years, but the first gay one. Since it was near death, they were desperate enough to consider calling a gay or lesbian pastor. Perhaps I should have known that after a used car salesman turned them down (I’m not kidding), my chances were either pretty good or I was pretty dumb to consider it. Archwood’s 1,000 members had plummeted to 30 on a good day. Why go to a church you might have to close?Working with that search committee was another story for another day, but ultimately, we arrived on the December day of the vote, the day when the congregation would first listen to me preach and then hold a meeting to ask questions, and then I would leave the room while they talked. The search committee assumed, correctly, that some of the questions might be inappropriate, questions about such things as my sex life, so they appointed an 85-year-old Republican to field the questions and then he would ask me. Surely no one would ask him anything too graphic. That tactic lasted 15 minutes, after which he was too red faced to continue and just stepped aside. But showing no shame, the undignified questions continued, occasionally relevant to church, ministry, and vision. Finally, I was invited to leave the room while they deliberated. It took forever. I even toyed with the idea of leaving. But then I heard a loud ruckus in the sanctuary. The vote had been 27 to 13 in favor. Someone got a calculator to check that it was the necessary 2/3rds margin. And what was the ruckus? Upon the announcement, someone took the microphone and spoke into it too loudly – Congratulations. Then yelling from the other side began, including the church secretary who declared everyone was going to hell. The search committee chair explained this to me, and then said, now come, let’s go downstairs for tea and coffee.Mary Mae Meister, that secretary, was a whole story in itself. The most outwardly racist and homophobic church employee you’d could ever want. I was still shaken from hearing all the yelling, but I nervously went downstairs. As I was adding Sweet and Low to my coffee, Mary Mae raced toward me from the other side of the room and began screaming – we’ve got to keep the children away from you. You can just go home now and have sex with anything you want. I was a wreck inside, but I calmly listened and thanked her for her honesty and stepped away, while she chose another target to berate because they hadn’t made their pledge yet. I walked to the middle of the room where a lovely group of elderly women held out their hands and formed a half-circle around me, and said, “We’re glad you’re here.” I can still see their faces.My first Sunday was a month later, but only after insisting they “retire” Mary Mae, which was further fuel on the fire of my detractors. And even supporters. People had become so used to her they actually wanted me to try working together for six months. Eleven of the 13 no votes never set foot in the church again. And a few of those who did vote for me didn’t stay long. One man said, “I just don’t see a pastor. I see a homosexual in the pulpit” – and I had never once pulled out my feather boa. I grew close to the people, and they to me, so it was devastating that when some of them died, family members wouldn’t allow me to conduct their funeral.So, the ordination, 25 years ago. The Cleveland Plain Dealer did a very large story the week before, which unleashed the madness. Piles of hate mail arrived – and continued for months. A death threat was left on the answering machine to burn down the church with me in it. I took the little tape to the police who, as I figured they would, said they could only do something if indeed the church had burned down with me in it. I lived in the parsonage right next to the church, so I felt more than a little vulnerable. A very prominent and rich man in Cleveland demanded that the UCC president intervene and stop the ordination or he would no longer give money to his own UCC. Paul Sherry sent him a very nice letter and then sent a letter of greetings to be read at my ordination, expressing regrets he could not personally be present.The day before my ordination one of the pastors in our ecumenical cluster, a United Methodist church, asked to visit. He handed me a letter that said he and his church would not attend any future event or joint service where I would be involved. He wanted to give me the letter in person as a “friendly gesture” and said, “I hope we can still be friends.” Earlier in the week the pastor of a large suburban UCC invited me to coffee. They had promised to do some work around Archwood as a mission project, but over a piece of pie he said they were pulling their support. I would have rather received a letter.Another church in our Association left the UCC, citing me in their history book as the reason. Even the pastor of the nearest UCC said he wouldn’t attend my ordination because he didn’t approve, although, a few years later I officiated at his wedding. Despite these, I felt very much loved and supported. Including by the church right across the street, also United Methodist, a stark contrast to the “friendly fellow.” They were wonderful. And the pastor organized a group to be on the watch for the promised protestors. In the end, only one protester showed up, who put little handwritten cards on all the car windshields that read “God does not create people gay,” in response to my statement in the newspaper.We knew the newspaper article was risky and the response it would likely generate. But we also knew it was the best way to get word out. And on the day of the ordination, the 20 or so members of Archwood were dwarfed by a church packed with supporters, many of them complete strangers hungry for a church that would welcome them. Some of them came back and helped lay the foundation for the congregation that was to come. Nearly every one of those initial twenty-something people who voted to call me died within a few years, Penny, Alice, Clara, Betty, Lillian… and without their radical hospitality, so would have the church. It’s still there, small, but every single other church in the neighborhood has since closed – UCC, Lutheran, Episcopal, both United Methodist churches and even the Catholic church, all replaced by Pentecostal and fundamentalist churches. Ten years after I started at Archwood I began a doctoral program. My final project was a study of others who had followed the same path. To be included in the study, they had to be out on their profiles, honest in their interviews, and the predominantly straight congregations which called them had to be aware that the candidate was openly gay or lesbian. Conference Ministers around the country helped me identify study participants. Instead of just one in 1989 and a handful in 1993, by 2005, there were well over 100. I can only imagine how many more there are today, more than 10 years later. And what I found in my study was that despite the consistency of a great many fears expressed about losing members and money and families with children, churches with LGBTQ pastors outperformed the rest, particularly with families looking to raise their children in an environment of openness and acceptance. Not as though it’s a contest, but it was quite revealing.But the other side of the study also identified the great personal and emotional toll it took on such pastors. I can now laugh about hate mail and death threats and such indignities as being refused the honor of officiating at a funeral, but I did get worn down and I struggled with some severe depression for a while. Pressure by some to fail; pressure by some that I had to succeed or I would set the movement back. But my challenges were nothing like the pastor who was at home when a gun was intentionally shot at the parsonage. And those who have endured numerous acts of vandalism, to mention only a few incidents. Or when Gene Robinson was consecrated a bishop wearing a bullet proof vest.I feel so blessed and grateful for having been here for ten of those 25 years. Please believe that it was quite surreal to go from the congregational meeting filled with insults and inquiries about my sex life to the one here involving questions of theology and preaching and church growth.I am grateful for my 25 years – and many more to come. Yet, the struggle for the rest of the church is far from over. More churches would condemn you than congratulate you for being Open and Affirming. To us, here, now, the danger is in thinking it’s not a big deal anymore. But church deacons still pour acid on LGBT members in Jamaica. Churches in Uganda demand the death penalty for the crime of homosexuality. In fact, it’s still a crime in 76 countries. And in the US, transgender people of color have some of the highest murder rates, while Christians are up in arms about which bathroom they use.God has been and is making a way out of no way – making the ears of many tingle. I have seen it. But it pains me for those for whom change is still terribly slow and only incremental. Or non-existent. Battles fought over the fundamental dignity of human persons. Or that God shouldn’t do what God wants to do.God has been and is persistently at work on earth, but it is with human hands. And so we must remember: We are called to act with justice, we are called to love tenderly, we are called to serve one another, and walk humbly with God.

Sermons from Park Hill Congregational UCCDenver, ColoradoRev. Dr. David Bahrpastor@parkhillchurch.orgJanuary 28, 2018“Bigger? Or Stronger, Readier and Clearer”​1st Corinthians 8: 1-6 – Common English Bible (adapted)Now concerning meat that has been sacrificed to a false god: We know that we all have knowledge. Knowledge makes people arrogant, but love builds people up. 2 If anyone thinks they know something, they don’t yet know as much as they should know. 3 But if someone loves God, then they are known by God.4 So concerning the actual food involved in these sacrifices to false gods, we know that a false god isn’t anything in this world, and that there is no God except for the one God. 5 Granted, there are so-called “gods,” in heaven and on the earth, as there are many gods and many lords.6 However, for us believers,There is one God, From whom all things come from and to whom we belong.And there is one Sovereign Jesus Christ. Through whom all things exist and through whom we live.

In his State of the Union address in 2015, President Obama declared “the state of our union is strong.” He then cited extensive data to back up his claim. Commentators noted it was a striking contrast to previous speeches that had been filled more with optimism than reality. And so, in my annual State of the Church sermon on the day of our congregational meeting in 2015, I picked up on that theme and declared something similar: that Park Hill UCC is stronger. I am superstitious enough that to declare something too definitively is dangerous. I declared I would never live in Cleveland. No wonder why, then, I did! For 17 years. Even though, I subsequently came to love and defend it, not to mention, it’s where I met my husband. So, I thought, to declare in 2015 “we are strong,” would have been an invitation to test the theory. A church, and in fact all of us, are never finished. We are always becoming something – either of our choosing or as the result of forces around us. But we were, in fact, becoming stronger. We had just started bloom! a few weeks before. We were nearing the end of our first year of the Women’s Homelessness Initiative, in which 77 people had volunteered. And the narthex project had been completed, transforming our entrance into a welcoming place and adding an area for fellowship. The whole capital campaign was raising our confidence. And there was evidence to back that confidence up, not just optimism.On Annual Meeting Sunday in 2016, my word for the church was “ready.” Ready for what God is calling forth from us next. Ready was a good word, although, as I look back, I wonder if God wasn’t laughing and saying, “We’ll see!” Yet, by then we had completed all our major capital projects. Growth was truly happening. Once we took out the pews in the summer of 2015, attendance and the number of families with children rose significantly. The difference was stunning, as though a switch had been flipped. Our sanctuary now reflected our theology – a sense of community created, the table in the middle of us, and the magnificent reflection of light upwards from the floor. Visitors noticed and kept coming back, some of you included.And yet, perhaps I should have said we are readier, because who could have been truly ready when we gathered in shock for worship the first Sunday after the election. However, I think we were ready for the influx of people. We had begun working with Soul2Soul a few months before to energize and re-engage with issues of racial justice. The now well-established Women’s Homelessness Initiative provided an immediate opportunity to get involved. And again, following the removal of the pews the year before, when people came looking, we had in place a critical core of families and children from which to build. And we have.When we met last year, the inauguration had been two days before. Saturday morning, dozens of us had joined the millions of men and women who gathered on every continent to declare resistance. As the months passed, increasingly it felt like the word of the year was “cruelty.” An inexplicable celebration of cruelty. I started using the words “open, inclusive, just, and compassionate” over and over again to describe what Jesus meant by the Kingdom of God. It was the mission of Jesus on earth and our call as disciples of Christ to pursue such a world. When we gathered last year, we still didn’t know the extent of damage yet to come. What promises would become reality? Now we know. And with that, we all have greater clarity about our mission and importance as a voice on the religious left. And because we know who we are, it’s not surprising that this reflects in our statistics.Every State of the Church sermon has to include some numbers to illustrate the story. I promise to keep them brief. In 2015 our average worship attendance – adults and children – totaled 77. In 2016, 87. Last year, 90. But within that, there are some interesting and conflicting details. There were 60 more people at Easter last year than the previous, breaking a 22-year record. Christmas just broke a 20-year record. On the other hand, however, last summer we had two Sundays with fewer than 40 people in worship, something that hadn’t happened since 2014. I started thinking, “Where’d everyone go?”Statistics about children are the most dramatic. Last year between New Years and Easter, there were 10 or more children in church on 14 Sundays. The year before, 4 Sundays. The year before that, 1. There has clearly been growth. Not so much in formal membership, but in attendance and participation. Yet even more volunteers in WHI. More people committed to our activities of racial justice. But, then again, not as many in adult education after worship or even our innovative Sunday evening bloom! When we started bloom!, we consistently had 25-30 people every month. A few weeks ago, continuing a downward trend, there were 10. In addition, our organizational model to coordinate our ministries has not been working as we thought it should, so at the end of the year, the Coordinating Team declared its work complete. And now in the new year we have to come up with a different design to support involvement and leadership development.I think my word for 2018, instead of stronger, or ready, or a description of our world as “cruel,” I think our word could be “clarity.” Not that everything is clear. But we know who we are as a church and our calling in the world. We have greater clarity. But we also need greater clarity, about how to organize so that everyone can find their place for ministry. And how to build community, if bloom! is not it. And how to do faith formation beyond Sunday School. I pray for greater clarity to find a new path forward on these issues.Looking back, our word for 2017 was clearly “generosity.” Because, wow, one of your clearest responses to the cruelty in our world has been generosity in the face of it. Through Sunday morning Compassion in Action offerings, you gave a remarkable $28,000 to our mission partners; up from $17,000 the year before, and $12k when we started. Add to that our support of ministry through the UCC and the gift market and sponsorships for orphans, among other things, and total contributions beyond our walls adds up to over $67,000 for mission, compared to $51,000 the year before. Not including solar or socks and backpacks and school supplies and sleeping bags… on and on. For a church our size!Now, all of this could start to sound like boasting and bragging. So much so that I was struck by this rather odd passage from Paul’s 1st Letter to the Corinthians, one of today’s texts from the lectionary. Remember that Paul’s letters are listening in on one side of a conversation. Either something’s going on or he has heard something or he has been asked a question… and the letters in the Bible are the response. Which, again, means we only know half of the conversation. In today’s reading, some controversy has been raised about whether Christians should eat meat that has been sacrificed to a false god. Why is that an issue? And why is his response framed as an issue about knowledge? And perhaps more importantly, why should we care? “Now concerning meat,” he said, “We know that we all have knowledge. Knowledge makes people arrogant, but love builds people up. If anyone knows something, they don’t yet know as much as they should know. But if someone loves God, then they are known by God.” Love.And so, about love and meat, he concludes, false gods are false, so what difference does it make if we eat meat sacrificed to them or not? They are nothing, so what harm can there be? It’s a surprisingly open-minded response. It doesn’t really matter, so don’t make an issue out of it. Do you love? (If only the Christian church took such an attitude to so many other issues in our day.)But I still wonder, what’s the problem with knowledge? Scholars suggest that Paul is talking about a social elite, who claim special knowledge. Although, if you think about it, meat was already something only the richest could eat as often as they wanted. Perhaps sacrificed meat was the only thing the poor could afford. Paul said, go ahead, eat whatever you want, because the real point of Christian community is love. Did Paul say this to embarrass the rich? Who is he talking to, or about? To lift the lowly and topple the powerful from their metaphorical thrones?Regardless, I found this obscure passage oddly relevant. It raised in me a caution; to take caution in my celebration of our growth. What does it really matter? It is just like an American, me, to be taken by numbers. Bigger is better. More is better. Success is when you can point to more. Yeah, I know it’s not true. But, oh, isn’t it? So, I appreciate the correction offered by this text. Knowledge doesn’t matter, if you don’t have love; just like the size of our church. Or in our personal lives, the size of our paycheck doesn’t matter; getting our first liver spot or graying hair or deepening crows-feet doesn’t matter, getting recognized for our accomplishments doesn’t matter, titles don’t matter, a bigger office or a bigger audience. And growth does not matter, if your purpose isn’t love. Growth could lead to arrogance. For example, in celebrating our growth, I could point out that only 37% of UCC churches even have Sunday schools any longer. Youth groups. I could cite for you that 88% of UCC churches don’t have youth groups anymore. To put us in context, I could point out that we are now bigger than half of the other churches.[1] Kind of sounds like knowledge flirting with arrogance. But I still think it’s important to know. And it truly saddens me that year after year, while the UCC closes one church every week, it only adds one every month. We now have fewer than 1 million members in less than 5,000 churches. Does it really matter? I can hardly say fewer is better. Yet, are we about growing love in the world?When Park Hill officially voted to become an Open and Affirming Church in 1991, there were fewer than 100 other. Today, there are more than 1,400 welcoming congregations. Isn’t more better? When I was ordained 25 years ago, there weren’t even 10 openly gay pastors serving in churches around the country. Now there may be that many in just the Rocky Mountain Conference alone. More is better, especially because it’s about growing love.But bottom line: Are we, Park Hill, better this year because we have more than last year and the year before that? What is better? I just hope that no matter whether we are growing or not, you know that we are stronger together. And I hope that no matter what else we do, we are readier than ever to love in midst of this cruel world.And I pray that no matter who we are, we are clearer than ever about what really matters. Are we about love and ministry and building community?And if as a church, big, small or in between, if we have helped you become stronger, and readier, and clearer about God’s purpose and plan for your life, then, it is to God that we give the glory. We didn’t do this. As this odd passage about meat says, “It is to God from whom all things come and to whom we belong. And glory to the one Sovereign Jesus Christ, through whom all things exist and through whom we live.”None of this is of our own making. So, in addition to God, let us thank the generations of our past who built this church and upon whose foundation our ministry is able to build. They did not build in vain.

Sermons from Park Hill Congregational UCCDenver, ColoradoRev. Dr. David Bahrpastor@parkhillchurch.orgJanuary 14, 2018“Dr. King: His Life, Our Time. His Need and Ours”Psalm 139: 1-14 O Lord, you have searched me and known me.2 You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from far away.3 You search out my path and my lying down, and are acquainted with all my ways.4 Even before a word is on my tongue, O Lord, you know it completely.5 You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me.6 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is so high that I cannot attain it.

7 Where can I go from your spirit? Or where can I flee from your presence?8 If I ascend to heaven, you are there; if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there.9 If I take the wings of the morning and settle at the farthest limits of the sea,10 even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me fast.11 If I say, “Surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light around me become night,”12 even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is as bright as the day, for darkness is as light to you.

13 For it was you who formed my inward parts; you knit me together in my mother’s womb.14 I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works;that I know very well.

I feel fortunate that every year, to prepare a sermon for Dr. King’s birthday, I get to peruse through volumes of speeches and sermons and listen to audio recordings and watch video clips to find inspiration. There is so much rich material that, at the beginning, the task feels daunting. But every year, some aspect of his life and our times calls out for attention. And this year, my attention was caught by a sermon he delivered in August 1957. We remember the context of that time period. The bus boycott in Montgomery began in December 1955, just days after Rosa Parks refused to give up her seat to a white man. Local pastor Martin King was named the president of the organization that would lead the boycott. It is said he was chosen because he “had the advantage of being too new in town to have made enemies; young (only 26 years old), well-trained, generally respected,” not to mention, “if the boycott failed, with his family connections he could probably find another pastorate.”[1] Even so, his primary responsibility was still as the pastor of Dexter Avenue Baptist Church. Someone who had to preach on Sundays, conduct funerals, teach Bible study, visit the sick, and watch over the church’s bottom line. That last part was made clear this hot August Sunday. Before he launched into his sermon he gave the announcements, including a funeral the next day, details about pallbearers, and then, I had to laugh. Accustomed to his soaring rhetoric, I was amused by his announcement about financial statements available after worship. Adding, “I would like to say that I noticed several members are behind in their pledges for some reason. I don’t know why that is, but I would like to urge you to catch up in your pledges, for our responsibilities are the same.” OK. But he kept on going, “We have a budget to carry out in the summer months, just as in any period of the year. And I’m urging you to bring up those pledges before too long, so that we can face the many responsibilities that we have ahead in our church.” He gave a few more announcements and then invited the ushers to come forward. “Let us prepare to give liberally,” he said, blessing the offering. And then he went back into his plea. “As I said just a few minutes ago, many of our members are behind in their pledges” and kept going in the hot August Alabama sanctuary for a little while longer. Some things in church life don’t change! And it clearly doesn’t matter whether you are becoming the nationally renowned Dr. King, or just Pastor Martin who also picks up trash in the bushes on Thursday afternoons.But back to the point. If you remember, the bus boycott lasted an entire year and 15 days, ending just before Christmas in 1956. This particular August 1957 sermon was entitled “Conquering Self-Centeredness.” A time when King’s celebrity had exploded and he described this to his Sunday morning congregation:“Living over the past year, I can hardly go into any city or any town in this nation where I’m not lavished with hospitality by people of all races and of all creeds. I can hardly go anywhere to speak in this nation where hundreds and thousands of people are not turned away because of lack of space. I can hardly walk the street in any city of this nation where I’m not confronted with people running up the street, ‘Isn’t that Reverend King of Alabama?’” Pastor Martin told his congregation, “Living like this it’s easy to think, it’s a dangerous tendency, that I will come to feel that I’m something special, that I stand somewhere in this universe because of my ingenuity and I can walk around life with a type of arrogance because of an importance that I have.” I appreciated this window into his internal challenges. And his answer to the temptation:I pray this prayer every day: “O God, help me to see myself in my true perspective.” It’s a universal prayer whether our star is rising or our future is fading and our accomplishments are failing. Somehow, it both humbles when needed as well as lifts us up.He said he prays every day: “O God, help me to see myself in my true perspective. Help me to see that I’m just a symbol of a movement, something that was getting ready to happen in history. And that a boycott would have taken place in Montgomery even if I had never come to Alabama. Help me to realize who I am, that this movement happened because of the forces of history and because of the fifty thousand Negroes of Alabama who will never get their names in the papers and in the headlines. O God, help me to see that where I stand today, I stand because others helped me to stand there.”[2]It was a prayer he commended to his congregation to conquer self-centeredness, to see ourselves in true perspective, and though the members of his congregation were probably among those never listed in the newspapers or given headlines and might not have needed some of the particularities of his advice, even so, I appreciate this insight into his life. And, I also have to wonder, maybe ours too? The circumstances are certainly different, and maybe our struggle isn’t with ego, but on the flip side, don’t we all at times have a way of considering ourselves uniquely burdened by cares that no one else could possibly understand or bear? Nobody knows the troubles I alone have seen. There is something collectively true about our ability to make things about ourselves. But, in every way, we can all still pray, “O God, help me, today, to see myself in my true perspective.”After his quite lengthy sermon on a hot Alabama morning, he invited people to give their lives to Christ and offered a few more announcements, including how the evening service would only be one hour; one hour, one hour, he repeated several times to his sweltering church, but nothing more about pledges.In that sermon, he reveals the fierce pressure of his growing celebrity, of the temptation to find himself more important than the movement. In the coming years, that pressure would only increase, especially after winning the Nobel Peace Prize in 1964. In response, he could have offered all kinds of psychological opinions, alternate solutions to the problem of getting a big head, but it was prayer, he said. Daily, and praying without ceasing. Perhaps it’s not surprising that he would say this – after all, he was a pastor and it was in a sermon. But while Dr. King’s skills at oration are praised all the time, it was this intimate moment that revealed the depth of Reverend King. His prayer life. And that is what caught my attention this year. The way his life meets our times. His need. And ours. There is much to remember about King’s life that inspires us to do justice, but he would also counsel us not forget to his focus on the Source of inspiration. And pray.You can’t fully appreciate or understand his speeches without an understanding of his faith. For that matter, it is impossible to understand King apart from the Black Church. And you can’t note the scriptural references throughout his speeches without also noting that many of his favorite scriptures are prayers,

such as his frequent recitation of today’s reading from Psalm 139, one of my absolute favorites too. “Where can I go from Your Spirit? Where can I flee from Your presence?” The truth of Psalm 139 is God’s absolute presence.

True, yet, just as often as King calls upon the prophet Micah or the everflowing streams of justice of Amos, King quotes the prophet Isaiah who lamented that God hides from him and the prophet Habakkuk who complained that God does not listen to our cries for help.

King’s prayers beseeched God to be merciful on him, a sinner, and to “let this cup pass from me,” just as Jesus did, but, too, adding, “not my will, but let thy will be done.”

And King’s prayers for understanding. I can’t imagine how hard and how often he had to pray “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do” of Bull Connor and George C. Wallace and every alt-right white-hooded, rock throwing racist screaming words of hate, with foam dripping from their mouths like rabid dogs.

Prominent among his favorite spiritual resources was the Prayer of Saint Francis, “Lord, make me an instrument of Thy peace, where there is hatred, let me sow love…”

We know this because a book about Dr. King’s prayer life was released just a few years ago, the first of its kind, noting its striking omission by scholars for 50 years. How could prayer be missing from scholarship about his life? And that’s especially odd, said the author, Lewis Baldwin, because “King never separated intellectual ability, moral responsibility, and social praxis from deep personal spirituality and piety.”[3] For King, the resources of heart, mind, soul, and spirit were a necessary precondition to social change. While some people would elevate the importance of protest over prayer, saying that prayer is just a waste of time, or that Christians should choose to focus on prayer over protest, just spitting in the wind, King would remind us that prayer and praise and protest, confession, intercession and adoration, are all one in the same – and without one, the others wouldn’t have meaning, not to mention, we couldn’t keep doing any of it.

That is so true. As we get to the first anniversary of a year in which we have been constantly on edge from one tweet and outrageous comment after another, for which we have no more words in reply; news day after day from the Department of Injustice, the Department of Selling Off Our Natural Resources, the Department of Ending Public Schools; constant reminders that white supremacy still rules – seriously, publicly declaring a preference for Norwegian immigrants over Haitians? It’s only been one year, during which we have been constantly reminded to keep up the resistance, to express outrage… So, no wonder why it was that King’s prayer life called out for our attention in these times.

Fittingly, one of his prayers is entitled “I Can’t Face It Alone.”[4] During the bus boycott he was constantly harassed and threatened. But it was a month after the boycott ended that he received a particularly disturbing telephone call from a white supremacist who threatened his life, his home, and his family. King, sitting in his kitchen, collapsed and prayed, “Lord, I am here taking a stand for what I believe is right. But I am afraid. And I have nothing left. I’ve come to the point where I can’t face it alone.”[5] He didn’t say “anymore.” He said I can’t face it “alone.” And less than a week later, his house was indeed bombed.

“I’ve come to the point…” “I’ve come to the point where I can’t face it anymore.” Haven’t we all been there. But he said, “Face it alone.” Feeling that same way doesn’t require us to have had our homes threatened or bombed, for wildfires to destroy our possessions, for mudslides to erase our legacy, for hurricanes to clear away any semblance of normality… It doesn’t take a diagnosis of cancer or the realization of addiction… It doesn’t take foreclosure or unemployment for us arrive at the conclusion, “I’ve come to the point where I can’t face it alone” anymore.

Yet, for no matter what reason, the response can be the same every time:O Lord, you have searched me and known me.

3 You search out my path and my lying down, and are acquainted with all my ways.7 Where can I go from your spirit? Or where can I flee from your presence?8 If I ascend to heaven, you are there; if I make my bed in hell, you are there.9 If I take the wings of the morning and settle at the farthest limits of the sea,10 even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me fast.11 If I say, “Surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light around me become night,”12 even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is as bright as the day, for darkness is as light to you.13 For it was you who formed my inward parts; you knit me together in my mother’s womb.14 I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; that I know very well.

Not many months into the bus boycott, people were rightfully weary of the inconvenience. Though Rev. King was personally comforted by its words, in an April 29th sermon he reflected that many people do not want to be known by God.[6] He said, “one of the strange facts of human life is that there is within every man an underlying urge to escape God, the mad desire to flee from the presence of Almighty God.”

Why? One reason I can think of is that to be known by God is to know God and to know God is to love God and to love God is to love God’s people and to love God’s people is to do the right thing. And when we don’t, or rather, don’t want to, who wants a presence on every rock, heaven, hell, the farthest sea, and everywhere in between reminding us of that? Leave me alone! We’d all rather do our own thing. We get weary of always hearing about the right thing. King cited Jonah in that April sermon.

Well, when we too have “come to the point,” we can try to turn off the news, we can log off Facebook, we can stop coming to church, we can stop talking to our neighbors, but we cannot escape God. Now, is that a promise or a threat? We might say, angrily, God won’t leave me alone. Or we could rest in the knowledge that God does not leave us alone; God, who knows our deepest needs and our most desperate longings, who joins us in disgust for the blatant racism of our leaders, the callous disregard for war or the suffering of millions in our country and far beyond… God continues, every day and in every way, to hold out to us the path to life and meaning. God has even prepared our path. Because God knows the way to our health and wellbeing, which, of course, as King so poetically described it, our wellbeing, mentally, spiritually and politically, “is inextricably tied to the same garment of destiny” as the rest of the world.

It was Dr. King’s need and ours to hear the encouragement of the Psalm: God is always there, God knows how hard it is, and when “we’ve come to the point” to give up, God is always ready to start again, with prayers like the one in your bulletin written by Pastor Martin:

One: O Thou Eternal God, out of whose absolute power and infinite intelligence the whole universe has come into being, All: we humbly confess that we have not loved thee with our whole hearts, souls and minds, and we have not loved our neighbors as Christ loved us. One: We have all too often lived by our own selfish impulses rather than by the life of sacrificial love as revealed by Christ. All: We often give in order to receive. We often love our friends and hate our enemies. We go the first mile but dare not travel the second. We forgive but don’t dare to forget. One: And so as we look within ourselves, we are confronted with the appalling fact that the history of our lives is the history of an eternal revolt against you. All: But thou, O God, have mercy upon us. Forgive us for what we could have been but failed to be. Give us the intelligence to know your will. Give us the courage to do your will. Give us the devotion to love thy will. One: In the name and spirit of Jesus we pray. Amen.[7]

Mark 1: 4-11John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. 5 And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. 6 Now John was clothed with camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. 7 He proclaimed, “The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals. 8 I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.” 9 In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. 10 And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. 11 And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

When I hike, I want a payoff at the end, like a stunning 360-degree view from the top of a peak, or a waterfall or an alpine lake, preferably with some snow still visible feeding the icy cold water. To me, there’s nothing so dull as just a walk through the woods. Give me a view of the majestic snow-capped peaks behind Brainard Lake, wildflower-covered vistas around Silver Dollar Lake… Give me the Calypso Cascades or Ouzel Falls. …funny how prominent water is in these images.If I ask you to think of images of water, what comes to mind? Close your eyes for a moment. Water. What do you see? Is it a peaceful, serene body, like an alpine pond? Is it a mountain waterfall? A Minnesota lake? The mighty Mississippi. The crashing waters of the ocean? Water from a hot steaming shower to sooth sore muscles or a cold drink to quench our thirst. Are we grateful for clean water running from the tap or frightened, like in Flint, of water that is dangerous, full of toxic lead and pollutants? Do we envision oil washing up on the Gulf Coast? Or images of yellow water flowing through Durango.How about doves? If I ask you to think of images of a dove, what comes to mind? Close your eyes for a moment. Doves. What do you see? Doves flying gracefully or quietly perched on a wire? Memories of doves set free at a wedding. Or trapped in a cage? Do you see their soft white feathers or a bunch of droppings to pick up? Do smile at their peaceful cooing? Or get annoyed when they won’t shut up so you can finally fall asleep? For every image, there is often a counter image. This text from Mark is full of them.So, imagine, the scene of Jesus in the water for his baptism. Children joyfully splashing in the River Jordan next to him. But, talk about a counter image, did you know that today the site of Jesus' baptism has become so dangerously contaminated, tourists are urged to stay out of the river's waters. There is more sewage flowing into the river than fresh water.[1]So, John the Baptist. There’s not a lot left to the imagination. Mark, the gospel writer, is a man of few words. He only writes what is absolutely necessary, so it is notable that Mark uses an entire verse just to describe John. “Clothed in camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, he ate locusts and wild honey.” With that image, I picture in my mind the wild, unkempt hair of someone who couldn’t care less about his appearance. An ascetic. I figured that John chose to wear camel hair because it was itchy and uncomfortable. Maybe once upon a time it was, but today, I discovered, it is the must-have fiber of luxury, high end designers. Plus, it is touted as the most environmentally sustainable animal fiber in the world.[2] John the Baptist, fashion icon? Counter images.So, back to the scene in the river. After being dunked, Jesus emerged from the water. The text describes that “he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending on him like a dove.” Close your eyes and picture that. The heavens torn apart, the Spirit descending like a dove.What did you see? A dove, gently wafting through the air, cooing a lovely song of adoration? Landing sweetly on his shoulder? Or did any of you picture a bird divebombing, like a pelican plunging headfirst into the water for their dinner of fresh fish.How many of you pictured the revealing of blue sky after a storm? There’s a problem with such a serene image, however. It’s the particular, specific word Mark chose. The heavens were “torn apart.” The Greek word Mark used here is skhizein, or schizo.[3] Some translations say “ripped apart” or “torn open.” One translation simply says “the heavens opened.” As in, the rays of sun emerging. But the word schizo is too important. It has echoes of Advent and the Prophet Isaiah who pleaded for God to “tear open the heavens and come down. Fix this awful mess we have made on earth.” The word schizo appears only one other time in Mark’s entire gospel. As bookends. At his baptism, which for Mark is chapter 1. He provides no birth narrative. And then again only when Jesus breathed his last breath and died on the cross. At that very moment, the curtain of the Temple was torn, schizo, divided from top to bottom.[4]The curtain of the Temple didn’t just open, it was ripped apart. And not like a bed sheet, easily torn by human hands. The curtain that hung in the Temple was as dense as a rug or a thick tapestry. Human hands could never have torn it apart. It could only be interpreted as an act of God. The Gospel of Matthew, which builds off Mark’s original text, adds that an earthquake shook the earth at the same moment the curtain was schizo, being ripped apart. Therefore, it seems like the image of the heavens opening at his baptism should be as equally unsettling, matched in its magnitude. That’s kind of a disconnect from our common practice of baptism in the UCC. A quiet little chaste sprinkling of water upon our foreheads. Or the way most of us join the church. The standard practice in most UCC churches is that people simply stand up in front, give a little introduction, and then we recite a few words of a covenant with each other. Meaningful, but not particularly unsettling.A Connecticut pastor[5] suggested that to join the church we should have to go skydiving first. Step off the plane from thousands of feet in the air, free fall plummet to the earth, and then pull a rip cord to land safely on solid ground. Or something equally frightening. In my case, ride a roller coaster. You’ve never heard such foul language from a pastor than if you were to listen to me on a ride at an amusement park. For me it is simply and absolutely a fearful, frightful form of torment, torture, and agony. But what if baptism or church membership, or better yet, simply the Christian life, meant confronting such fear? Our most extreme forms of fear, whether sky diving, roller coasters, or public speaking. Utterly unsettling.If that were the case, everyone in the church would have had a shared experience of sheer terror at some point in their Christian life. Young people would look at their elders with their walkers and canes and marvel that they too once jumped from a plane to be part of this congregation. So, if I asked you to close your eyes and picture a Christian, what would you see. Let some images roll through your mind. Some of those images are probably pretty terrifying. Not sky divers, but Pat Robertson, Jerry Falwell (Sr. and Jr.), Phyllis Shafley. But picture these counter images:

Harriet Tubman was a devout Christian, attributing her work on the Underground Railroad leading slaves to freedom as a call from God.[6] An active member of her church, as were many abolitionists.[7]

Corrie Ten Boom was a devout Christian who hid Jews from the Nazis, and who herself was then sent to a concentration camp.[8]

And of course, Dr. King, whom we should never forget was The Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. No one could or should ever separate his contributions to the world from his faith. The Civil Rights Movement had as its backbone people in the pews.

Picturing a Christian is often as simple as watching our mothers and fathers, grandmothers and grandfathers, neighbors and even strangers who appear out of nowhere at just the right time.

Mother Teresa, perhaps one of our classic images of a Christian, is often no more sacrificial than Aunt Sophie.

A different question. If I asked you to give me an image of the biblical commandments, you might think of the huge monuments on county court house lawns or perhaps describe a long list of “don’t do this” and “don’t do that.” Or maybe remember that Jesus said, “love one another.” But what is the number one command in the Bible? It’s “Do not be afraid.” The specific phrase “Do not be afraid” is used at least 70 times.[9] Add to that, “Fear not” or “Do not fear,” and the number soars. How about the phrase “love one another?” Only eleven times, but of course, love is spoken of many more times too.

But it makes me wonder whether the Bible isn’t more concerned about fear than even love, which might be the biggest reason we don’t love. We’re afraid of the other. Isn’t fear the counter image of love? Perhaps that’s why to fulfill the theme of love in the Bible, prophets, angels, and messiahs must repeatedly assure us, “Do not be afraid.”

But it’s more than that. They add, “Because.” Do not fear, because. Fear not, because. Because why? The most frequent answer is because “I am with you.” Or “God is with you.” The angel Gabriel told the young Mary, “Do not be afraid because you have found favor with God” and “because nothing will be impossible with God.”

But it’s not just a matter of “because.” The Bible just as often adds “so that.” “Do not be afraid, because I am with you, so that…”

Back to the scene at the baptism of Jesus. What was it? A peaceful, serene moment, splashing in the water, blue skies opening, a dove gently floating down? Or the frightful experience of being pushed underwater by a wild-eyed prophet, the skies violently ripped apart, and a bird divebombing its way right toward us. A pretty frightening image. But, if that’s what it was, what happened then? The text says a voice from heaven proclaimed – “You are mine, Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” i.e. Do not be afraid, because you are not alone.

But that wasn’t it. Baptism is just the beginning, not an end unto itself. That unsettling experience is just getting us started. I am with you so do not be afraid of the consequences of your baptism because, like Jesus, I am preparing you to face a world that isn’t peaceful and serene but is schizo, being ripped apart. I’m sending you into this schizo world to sew us back together. Like

Brie Newsom. As she climbed a flag pole to rip down a Confederate flag, Brie, a devout Christian, recited scripture as she made her ascent.[10]

Colin Kaepernick is a devout Christian, enacting his faith every time he takes a knee.[11]

It’s the Rev. William J. Barber of the Moral Mondays Movement, head of an organization called Repairers of the Breach.[12] And Rev. Traci Blackmon.[13]

It’s like Mindee Forman and the brave members of Northeast Denver Neighbors for Racial Justice who risked speaking out at meetings in front of neighbors who might not know or care that you don’t create a welcoming community by honoring the KKK[14]

I picture Joan Root and 20 more from church last summer who marched down Colfax Avenue in torrential rain shouting that neo-nazis are not good people on both sides; yet not just protesting, but proclaiming love for our neighbors and praying for reconciliation

I can visualize all those who joined the Water Protectors on Standing Rock Reservation, setting up camp in solidarity and giving thanks to the Creator for the gift of water while water cannons were directed at them[15]

But in this schizo, ripped apart, torn open, world, there is one particular group of Christians, Jews, and Muslims that inspire me. Knitters who knit 4 peace.[16] Sewing one stitch at a time, repairing the tears in the fabric of our society.

If I ask you to picture Christian life, what do you see? Our own baptismal vows include the promise, with the grace of God (meaning, not alone), we will follow in the way of Jesus Christ, [which is] to confront the powers of hatred and oppression to show love and justice. That is the witness and work of a Christian.

It might be a counter image to some people, more Colin Kaepernick than Tim Tebow. Not as serene but unsettling. But, picture it, that’s how we will sew the world into one that is open, inclusive, just, and compassionate.

Litany: Remembering Our Promises One: Do you promise, by the grace of God, to be a disciple, to follow in the way of Jesus Christ, to resist oppression and hatred, to show love and justice, and to witness to the work and word of Jesus Christ, as best you are able? And do you promise, according to the grace given to you, to grow in your faith and to be a faithful member of the church, celebrating Christ’s presence and furthering God’s mission in all the world?

Luke 1: 26-38 – New Revised Standard Version“In the sixth month, the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth, 27 to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. Her name was Mary. 28 Gabriel came to her and said, “Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you.” 29 But she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. 30 The angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. 31 And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. 32 He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. 33 He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.” 34 Mary said to the angel, “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” 35 The angel said to her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God. 36 And now, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son; and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren. 37 For nothing will be impossible with God.” 38 Then Mary said, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” Then the angel departed from her.”“The angel Gabriel did not like delivering surprises.[1] People’s reactions vary too wildly. They’re too unpredictable. Some people jump and scream – like they’ve won the lottery. Others burst into tears. Some people hear the news and hold their breath until they faint. Gabriel didn’t like these assignments – yet, for some reason, he kept being sent out to deliver news from God, surprising unsuspecting human beings. His latest assignment was to a girl named Mary. Gabriel had to announce that God had chosen her to be the mother of God’s own child. “That’ll go well,” he thought. What would it be this time? Screams, tears, fainting… or all three. Or some new form of terrified, panicked expression? What if she runs away?Since this was such a big one, Gabriel tried to think extra hard of ways not to scare her before speaking even one word. Maybe just knock on the door? But what if the neighbors saw him standing there in his wings? Maybe write the words, “God is with you” in flour on the table where she was making bread. Too weird! Whisper the news in her ear? Sing a special song that only she could hear. But she might think she was losing her mind.Gabriel was standing in the middle of her house as he tried to put a plan together. He assumed she couldn’t see him; nobody else had before. But when he looked up, she was looking right at him. With a mixture of curiosity and wonder. She could see him! Who is this?In fact, he was so startled that when he stepped out completely from the curtain between heaven and earth, he just blurted out the words, “Hello, favored one of God. Do not be afraid, God is with you.”She calmly nodded her head with a quizzical expression.He was still so thrown by Mary’s tranquil reception that he rushed on breathlessly, “And God has sent me to tell you that you will have a baby, a boy, his name will be Jesus and he will be the Son of God most high and savior of the world.”She was quiet, taking in his words. “How can this be?” she calmly asked.“God’s Holy Spirit will wrap you in God’s love and the child will begin to grow inside you. He will be holy and blessed.”Gabriel gasped for air. He didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath the whole time.Mary just quietly sat down in a chair. No screams, no tears, no fainting. She studied her hands for a moment and then raised her brown eyes to the angel’s face and said, “I love serving God in any way I can. I’ll do it. I’ll be whoever God invites me to be.”As he turned to pull back the curtain, Gabriel saw that his hand was trembling. This girl had certainly surprised him. So confident; so calm. He looked at her again and she smiled and told him, “Don’t be afraid, Gabriel. God is with you.” They both laughed as he stepped behind the curtain.“Now THAT was a surprise,” he thought. Maybe surprises aren’t so bad after all.”Some of the oldest words in the Bible are lyrics known as Deborah’s Song.[2] You might be surprised by how violent they are, but her words declare victory over their enemies – including graphic descriptions of motions involving stakes and heads. It makes the stories of David and Goliath sound tame. Back before they had kings, judges were the rulers in ancient Israel. Deborah was a mighty judge, so respected that she had to take the hand of her military commander to lead him into battle because without her, he was too scared. That’s how they secured victory against tremendous odds. She was quite the contrast to typical rulers in her day, but I dare say she agreed: “I’ll be whoever God invites me to be.”Equally ancient are the words of Miriam’s Song after she and her brother Moses led the Hebrew people across the Red Sea, declaring victory for the former slaves. Dancing and singing, she celebrated that the Pharaoh’s horses and drivers were hurled into the sea. Also, rather violent. But dare I say she would agree: “I’ll be whoever God invites me to be.” Along with Hannah too. Upon Samuel’s birth, hear the words of Hannah’s Song:“My heart exults in the Lord;My mouth speaks boldly against my enemies…For the bows of the mighty are scattered. God raises the poor from the dust,God lifts the needy from the ash heapTo make them sit with nobles,And inherit a seat of honor.”[3]They are all reversals of fortune, songs from willing and triumphant women. So, it shouldn’t be surprising that after Gabriel left, Mary sang what we call the Magnificat. Echoes of previous songs: “God has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. God has toppled the rulers from their thrones but has lifted up the humble. God has filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away empty.”[4] Another in a line of triumphant songs by powerful women in the ancient world.So, why does the world insist on portraying Mary as poor, meek, and mild? Doe-faced, downward gazing. Why is the focus on Mary as a virgin when, if she were the fulfillment of prophecy, Isaiah speaks only of a young woman?[5] A “young woman” shall give birth to the Messiah. Jews are curious by this Christian interpretation, adding “If you’re going to appropriate our scripture, then why this insistence on her virginity?” Therefore, we should continue to set the record straight. Here are three things about Mary I think are more important:[6]1)She may have been surprised that she had been chosen to give birth to the savior, but Gabriel does not have to explain what it means. She is well versed in the prophets and understood the implications of the Messiah’s birth. 2)Second, she declared those implications in the Magnificat, in words that are brave and defiant, speaking out against an oppressive Empire, railing against the rich and powerful, predicting an uprising of the humble and poor. This was not the exercise of her freedom of speech but a dare, for which she faced possible imprisonment and death. She spoke of treason. Nevertheless, she persisted!3)Third, she was faithful (full-of-faith). Mary may have been a young woman, virgin or not (seriously, who cares?). But this is not the end of her story. She raised Jesus to be the kind of prophet who called hypocrites “hypocrites.” And who, like her, willingly faced the consequences. Mary is the one person who never left his side, even standing below him as he was executed on a cross. She was there on the day of Pentecost and remained a leader in the early church until her death.Mary – poor, meek, and mild…? Only a self-effacing servant? Merely a vessel, the means by which something else more important can happen? I think not. For Mary was a God-infused, Spirit-filled insurrectionist. She stands in a long line of Deborahs and Miriams and Hannahs, in a line that includes Tamars and Rachels and Ruths. And Elizabeth Cady Stantons and Sojourner Truths and Fannie Lou Hamers. Not merely vessels for someone else but, on their own, the defiant prophets of God’s truth. “Hark the Heralds” of justice and liberation for those at the bottom, proclaiming the reversal of the world’s fortunes. And ours too, by the way.Because, lest we only celebrate the actions of people we can point to – “They are heroes.” “I could never be like them.” Because, whether she was a prophet, disciple, or rebel, or poor, meek, and mild, all of it was grounded in humility. A revolutionary kind of humble. Humility is not humiliation. But, emptied of self, love can fill us. And a heart-space filled with love can drive away everything from self-pity to arrogance. All of the things that get in the way of being completely open to invite God’s will for us. Whether pride or possessiveness. It was her revolutionary kind of humble that allowed Mary to declare to the angel Gabriel: “I’ll be whoever God invites me to be.” How powerful is that? And it is the thing I most want for us to experience. You do know it is the decline of those surprising, unsuspecting invitations that causes us angst. Gabriel will have to keep coming back until he’s finished his assignment, so don’t be surprised if you hear him knocking at the door of your house, or writing with his finger in the flour as you make bread, or whispering in your ear, or singing a song only you can hear. You’re not crazy, but he can’t quit until you say yes. Until we join the revolutionarily humble Mary to say with expectation and anticipation, to say without fear or regret, “I’ll be whoever God invites me to be.”Repeat after me:“I’ll be”“Whoever God”“Invites me to be”With that revolutionary kind of humble, whether it changes a little or a lot, your life will never be same.Litany: A Modern Magnificat From John Shelby Spong’s “A New Christianity for A New World” One: My soul sings in gratitude. I’m dancing in the mystery of God. The light of the Holy One is within me and I am blessed, so truly blessed.All: This goes deeper than human thinking. I am filled with awe at Love whose only condition is to be received.One: The gift is not for the proud, for they have no room for it. The strong and self-sufficient ones don’t have this awareness.All: But those who know their emptiness can rejoice in Love’s fullness. It’s the Love that we are made for, the reason for our being. It fills our inmost heart space and brings to birth in us, the Holy One.

[1] “The Surprise” (adapted from the story by Bob Hartman, from an adaptation by Jane Anne Ferguson)